A Dance and a Grave
by Henry Baxendale
Summary: Just another one of those Harmony one-shots inspired by the DH dance scene when Ron left. Movie spoilers.


A Dance and a Grave

Pre Author's Notes:

I watched DH and saw the Harry/Hermione dance scene and got inspired by that scene and also seeing all the other ones. I had to get this out of my head before I forgot it.

* * *

That selfish git left us! That jealous prat abandoned us! But more importantly, he broke Hermione's heart. And for that, I'll never forgive him.

She's become more withdrawn than normal and cries herself to sleep. She thinks I can't hear her, but hearing that just breaks my heart, too. Oftentimes, I just mope about and think of ways to kill him if he ever comes back.

The last argument Ron and I had repeats itself every moment, asleep or awake.

* * *

"What? You think I don't know how this feels?" I yell.

"No you _don't_ know how this feels! Your parents are dead!" he screams back. "You _have_ no family!"

His bitter, scornful tone finally makes me snap, and I lunge at him and punch him right in the nose. We continue to tussle until Hermione breaks us apart.

"Fine! Go then!" I thunder.

"Alright, fine!" He rips off the locket and walks to the exit flap. He finally turns around and stares at Hermione. "Well? Are you coming, or are you staying?" he asks her.

She adopts a torn look as she stares at him, dumbfounded. She finally looks back at me, before turning back to the red head.

"Ron, I…," she starts, before he cuts her off.

"Okay, fine. I see how it is," he says vehemently. "I saw you two the other night," then he turns to leave.

"Ron, that was nothing," she says, her voice broken.

These final words of hers hurt me more than anything Ron could have said or done, and she will never know.

* * *

I admit that it is ironic that the dreaded radio has helped us keep our sanity. Hearing news from the outside world and not hearing our friends' names is very reassuring. We can even listen to music when we're feeling really down.

As I sit in the chair across the room from her, I can see in her eyes that even the music cannot cheer her up tonight. I need to lift her spirits somehow, but the means escape me.

I stare at her as she sits in broken perfection, and suddenly, I see her at the Yule Ball, when everyone's heads turned at the sight of her. Suddenly, a light bulb appeared over my head and turned on.

I stand up and walk over to her as a new song begins. I see the sadness in her eyes and it breaks my heart again. I hold out my hands and she silently obeys as I help her up. My fingers reach behind her head and unclasp the cursed locket and I throw it onto a nearby cot.

Then I did something she did not expect. I slowly led her to the center of the tent, staring into her eyes the whole time. As we begin to dance, the sadness leaves her chocolate eyes, if only for the duration of the song, and she realizes what I'm doing.

The song is perfect. The words don't matter, but the beat, melody, and our bodies, connected by our intertwined hands, move together in amazing harmony.

We dip each other, wind up and release, and sway gently with the song. As the song ends, we come together again, and she rests her head on my shoulder, our bodies closer than they have ever been.

Then I do something neither of us expected, in spite of myself.

I pull back, look at her, and lean in… only to embrace empty air. I open my eyes again, and her face has turned away. She finally looks back at me, with tears in her eyes.

"Harry, I-I, I can't," she whispers, and she walks away.

* * *

I can't believe myself! Why did I do that? Why did I have to make her cry again?

Over the next few days, she avoids me, and I beat myself up. I was supposed to be comforting her, and I blew it!

Eventually, I decide that I need to explain to her.

"Hermione, we need to talk," I say as I pulled her onto one of the beds to sit next to me.

"What about?" she asks, keeping her ignorant façade.

"I think you know," I simply state. Her head droops dejectedly. "I'm just going to come out and say it," I announce. "Hermione Granger, I love you." She looks shocked. "I love everything about you, and have for the longest time."

She stared at me with her eyes wide. "Why didn't you say anything?" she finally chokes out.

"I always thought you liked Ron," I say sorrowfully. "And I feel bad about it, but I only used Ginny to keep you off my mind. The only thing I ever wanted was for you to be happy, even if it wasn't with me. I just lost control the other night, and I'm sorry."

"Thank you for telling me, Harry. I forgive you, and I think I understand, now," she says.

* * *

After that night I didn't hear her crying when we turned in, but that might be because she decided to stay up later, and then cries herself to sleep.

* * *

We arrive in Godric's Hollow at night, the frigid air revealing our frequency of our breathing, a chilling reminder of our humanity.

"Harry, I think we should have used Polyjuice Potion," she says, clearly afraid of who might recognize us.

I quickly admonish her. "No, Hermione. My parents lived and died here, I was born here, and my life was destroyed here. I'm not returning as another person."

She silently agrees with me, choosing to remain silent.

We walk down the empty, snow covering the cobblestones, passing by the warm glow of people's homes, pubs filled with jolly people, and a church.

As I stare at the church, I notice the entrance to the graveyard.

"Do you think they're in there?" I ask. "My parents, I mean?"

"I should think so," she softly replies.

I quietly open the gate to the cemetery, and silently walk into it. I walk the rows of headstones, diligently searching for them.

I finally find them and look at the names and dates. James Charlus Potter – March 27, 1960 – October 31, 1981. Lily Nicole Evans-Potter – January 30, 1960 – October 31, 1981.

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

I soundlessly reflect on my parents, and wish with all my heart that I could have known them. I wish I could have learned their personalities, and let them learn mine. I wish I could remember my mother's touch. I even want to be embarrassed by them, just to know that someone in the world loves me.

Hermione suddenly appears next to me and draws her wand. She slowly draws a circle in front of the grave, creating a wreath of flowers to commemorate their life. I draw my teary eyes away from the headstone and look at her.

"Thank you," I choke out, even though the words can't express what I really mean.

"You're welcome, Harry," she replies, before resting her head against my shoulder. I place my cheek against the top of her head, and each of us places an arm around the other's shoulders, both paying our respects.

She finally steps back and pulls on my shoulder, forcing me to face her.

"You know what, Harry?" she asks, oblivious to the pain she's causing me.

"What, Hermione?" I reply.

"I've been thinking a lot lately, about what you said the other night," she begins. "And I've finally realized that you're right: I do like Ron."

I start to turn away, tears filling my eyes again.

She pulls me back again, steeling her grip. "Hey, let me finish," she says. I turn my head to look at her again, and see something in her eyes I never expected to sincerely see from anyone. "I do like Ron," she says again, "but that means nothing compared to the way I feel for you." A tear escapes my eye, and she brushes it away. "I've finally realized that I love you, too, Harry."

I suddenly become aware of her breath in the air, mingling with mine. Startling green met chocolate brown, and the fog is seen more frequently. But as we lean in, the air becomes clear again. Both of us didn't want this moment to end, but couldn't wait for it to finally begin.

Our lips embraced, and it was in this moment that I finally realized something. If we had each other, then we may just make it out of this alive.

* * *

I really enjoyed writing this.

Reviews are appreciated.

For those of you who are wondering, the next chapter of _The Only Thing He Ever Wanted_ will hopefully be up by Saturday, as my Thanksgiving break has officially ended. And yes, I'm American.

Peace,

Henry Baxendale


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